


you always come home

by IHaveNothingToDo



Series: Hourly Vibe Checks [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Im actually not quite sure what to tag this as, M/M, but I didn’t want it getting swallowed up by my tumblr so I’m putting it here!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:08:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23020723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHaveNothingToDo/pseuds/IHaveNothingToDo
Summary: You are 4pm. The unofficial end to the day on the farm.
Relationships: ambiguous
Series: Hourly Vibe Checks [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1654531
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	you always come home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miravena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miravena/gifts).



I'm hot, sticky from work but smiling because dinner is just on the other side of the field. The sun is high and hot in the summer and low and cool in the winter. I love them both. I think of you as I walk in, feet taking the well worn path on the edge of field. The cows still nose at me for treats and delighted I laugh and pet their noses.  


The day is not over, still ripe with possible moments, probable memories.

I have no more treats for the cows, but they sniff me for them anyways. The day is slowing down, the promise of a welcome home kiss and feet propped up on the coffee table. it's a long while to get the cows to stay back enough for me to get the gate open, slide through, and then back shut and latched, I'm still thinking of you when i stroke the littlest one's nose and silently vow to bring more potato slices tomorrow in your name.  


The other hands wave and call, fingers dancing in greeting, palms slapping me on the back as we all file in. Hats are hung with care, boots wiped carefully on the rug. Already there is talk of movies versus video games till the harsh clank of the dinner bell summons us to our seats. 

The first one to shower leaves for it, I eat my meal and make it again in my head so I can recreate it for you. we laugh and laugh and laugh, telling stories of the day and backaches of the evening.  it's a movie night we decide.

I take my shower, thinking of you in the scent of shampoo and the quick scrub of a towel over my skin. On the way to my room I hear the back door open, then clatter shut. that's right. the hinges need replacing. 

I drop towel in my room and change into my sleepwear, someone calls for me on the way back and I see you sprawled in my place on the couch. I smile and dive into you.

.

.

.

the night is still young, but the day is old. we are the children of possibility, and you always come home at 4 


End file.
